


PCS

by zathara001



Series: Detached Duty [2]
Category: NCIS, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: Six months after the events of "TAD," Tony's services are needed again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all rights in this work are given to those who own NCIS and Stargate SG-1.

Ziva was back - back from the dead, back from Somalia, back at her desk.

 

Tony DiNozzo wasn't certain how he felt about that.

 

Sure, he'd argued for the mission to rescue her. He'd put himself at risk to bring her back - or, if they'd been wrong and Ziva really had been dead, to avenge her. He'd never thought about what would happen afterward. He'd never thought that she'd want to come back to NCIS, let alone that Vance would let her.

 

Now, at 0730, faced with the prospect of sitting across from her once more, Tony pondered his own wants.

 

A beep from his cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced at the display. Surprise rippled through him when he saw a message from Colonel Jack O'Neill.

 

He'd met the colonel six months before, when the Air Force had needed someone to investigate the death of the AFOSI agent stationed at the Cheyenne Mountain complex. The Major Case Response Team - less Ziva, who wasn't an American citizen, let alone cleared for the kind of projects that went on at Cheyenne Mountain - had gotten the assignment, and Tony and Jack had kept in touch casually after the investigation was completed.

 

Still, even Jack rarely texted at 0530 his time, and anticipation mixed with dread as Tony tapped the message to read it.

 

_Just a heads up. We need you again._

 

Tony frowned at the message. Six months was plenty of time for them to have found a new OSI agent, so why would the MCRT be needed?

 

Only one way to find out. He texted back, _???_

 

A minute later, Jack replied, _You'll see._

 

And that, Tony knew, was that. He wouldn't get any more out of Jack, so he'd have to cool his heels - or, given that Jack was Air Force, maybe that should be cool his jets - until the higher-ups got around to letting the grunts know what was going on.

 

In the meantime, he pulled a cold case file from the stack on his desk. For the moment, the Navy and Marine Corps were free of cases that required the MCRT, so reviewing cold cases was the order of the day.

 

Tony had already reviewed a half-dozen cold case files - and really, how could they have gone a full _week_ without a major case? - and closed one of them. Now he was looking at some of the oldest of their cold cases. The one in his hand dated from the time Stan Burley was Gibbs' senior field agent.

 

Tony privately admitted he'd enjoy closing a case that the semi-sainted Stan Burley couldn't. Not that he had anything against the man personally, but Burley brought out his competitive side almost as much as college football had.

 

The elevator dinged, and Tony glanced up to see Ziva and McGee approaching the bullpen, chatting. He nodded to them, but turned back to the case file without speaking.

 

There really wasn't anything to say, he realized. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

 

Before he could follow that maudlin thought, Gibbs' voice echoed from above him.

 

"DiNozzo! Director's office. Now."

 

Tony slapped the file folder down on his desk and strode, unhurried, toward the stairs, ignoring the curious looks from McGee and Ziva as he did.

 

When he got to Vance's office, neither Vance nor Gibbs looked particularly pleased. Tony stood straight, facing Vance, with Gibbs off to his left, and braced for whatever might be coming.

 

"You can refuse this, if you want," Vance said. "But -"

 

"They want me back at Cheyenne Mountain." Tony didn't often catch Vance unaware, and he savored the other man's shocked expression.

 

Gibbs stepped in to cover Vance's silence. "There've been a couple of thefts on base. They requested an investigator."

 

"Of course I'm happy to help," Tony said, mostly because it made Vance's left eye tic. "Just me?"

 

"Just you," Vance agreed.

 

"I offered to go along," Gibbs said, and by what he didn't say, Tony understood that offer had been refused.

 

"They have no right to ask you," Vance said, and in that moment he was a director whose control over his own agency was being threatened, "even if the _they_ in question is Deputy Director Morrow."

 

"They didn't have to ask," Tony countered. "If they need me, I'm there."

 

His response was genuine, even if a part of him would've accepted the assignment just to watch Vance sputter and Gibbs glower and a larger part wondered just what crisis _a couple of thefts_ was code for.

 

"What kind of operation are they running out there, that they don't have an investigator of their own?" Vance demanded.

 

Tony flicked a glance at Gibbs, but both men held their tongues. That they'd investigated the death of Cheyenne Mountain's resident AFOSI agent six months ago was one of the many things Vance wasn't cleared to know.

 

Even so, it was a good question. Six months was plenty of time to have recruited and read in another agent to replace the late Major Madison Morgan, so why was the director of homeworld security - another thing Vance wasn't cleared to know - asking for their help again?

 

No, Tony reminded himself with some surprise. Not _their_ help. _His_ help, specifically. Why him alone, and not Gibbs and McGee as well? He gave a mental shrug. He'd find out when he got there.

 

"Fine," Vance said when it became clear that neither man was going to answer his question. "They'll be waiting for you at Anacostia-Bolling, just like last time."

 

"Yes, sir." Tony nodded acknowledgment and turned to leave.

 

"DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice made him turn back. "Update when you can."

 

Tony grinned. "I'll say hi to the colonel for you, too."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

At Anacostia-Bolling, the same colonel - Kennedy, Tony reminded himself with a glance at the man's nametag - who'd briefed him, Gibbs, and McGee before that first trip to Cheyenne Mountain briefed him again.

 

Not that it was much of a briefing.

 

"Even I don't know what you're heading into this time," Kennedy said. "Consider this a reminder that you only discuss _black_ projects with _black_ personnel in _black_ parts of the complex."

 

"Something happen to their new OSI agent?" Tony asked, hoping for a hint of a clue why he was needed.

 

"O'Neill will fill you in when you get there," Kennedy said. "Your ride's waiting outside."

 

Tony's ride turned out to be a Jeep with Military Police insignia, and an airman to drive him not quite half an hour to Joint Base Andrews. Tony was only somewhat surprised when the gate guard waved the Jeep through after only a cursory check at their ID - no doubt someone had phoned ahead.

 

Tony was not surprised at all when the airman directed the Jeep out toward the runways, even onto the tarmac itself.

 

Tony admitted to being floored when the Jeep pulled up beside a sleek, deadly-looking fighter aircraft.

 

"What the hell is that?" He surveyed the jet from its stubby nose cone past the tandem-seat cockpit and the wings from which dangled Sidewinder and Sparrow missiles to the flared tail fins.

 

"An F/A-18F Super Hornet, sir," the airman replied. Tony reflected that this particular hornet's sting was very deadly indeed. But there was one other question he had.

 

"And we're parked beside it because…?"

 

"That's your ride to Peterson."

 

"My - ride?" Tony repeated, unable to look away from the plane.

 

"Yes, sir. The pilot's waiting for you."

 

Tony forced himself to climb out of the Jeep and approach the man in the flight suit who stood beside the jet - and who, Tony was embarrassed to admit even to himself, he hadn't even noticed until the airman pointed him out.

 

Still, a quick glance at the man's shoulder and chest meant he could say, "Captain Ditend, I'm Tony DiNozzo, NCIS."

 

"Agent DiNozzo," the captain acknowledged. "If you'll climb into the cockpit, we'll be on our way."

 

As much as he itched to obey, he had to say, "I've never flown in one of these before."

 

"Don't worry." Captain Ditend grinned. "I won't pull any combat maneuvers that'll have you losing your breakfast. Just a hop to Peterson."

 

"Hop?" Tony blinked. "How long's the flight time?"

 

"About an hour and a half at Mach 1.5. If you will, sir? My orders are to get you to Peterson ASAP."

 

"Sure," Tony said. "What do I need to do?"

 

Ditend gave him quick instruction for how to strap himself in and settle the flight helmet over his head, and within minutes, Tony sat more or less comfortably in the second seat of the Super Hornet.

 

Then Ditend settled in the pilot's seat and, while Tony couldn't see exactly what he was doing, he knew Ditend was beginning the pre-flight check.

 

"Comm check." Ditend's voice whispered through the speakers in Tony's helmet. "Alpha, bravo, gamma, delta…."

 

"Comm check confirmed," Tony replied. Then, because he could, "Knox in box. Fox in socks."

 

"O'Neill warned me you're a character," Ditend said, and Tony heard the amusement in his voice. Then he sobered, and his next words made Tony wish, just for a moment, that Gibbs were here instead of him.

 

"We'll be pushing this aircraft to its limits," Ditend said. "Not gonna do anything stupid, but as good as the Super Hornet is, she's not designed for long flights at speed, and that's what we're doing now."

 

"But you said it was a hop," Tony said, suddenly nervous.

 

"A fifteen-hundred-mile hop."

 

Tony swallowed, hard. "At Mach 1.5."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Okay, then," Tony muttered. Then, louder, "What's it like? Exceeding the speed of sound?"

 

"You'll know in a few minutes."

 

Tony settled back to watch and listen as Captain Ditend concluded the pre-flight check and started the engines.

 

He could be forgiven if Kenny Loggins' _Danger Zone_ echoed in his mind. If this wasn't a _Top Gun_ moment, he didn't know what would be.


	2. Chapter 2

A little under three hours after he left the Navy Yard, Tony stood at the security checkpoint just inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, signing in and securing his cell phone. The flight from Andrews to Peterson had been followed by a drive that he would have thought reckless before he'd grown inured first to Gibbs' and then to Ziva's driving habits.

 

His driver had taken in Tony's _sang froid_ after the drive and given an approving grunt. "Not bad for a civilian."

 

Now, Tony accepted his visitor's badge from the sergeant on duty and turned toward the elevator that would take him to the depths of the complex. He couldn't go anywhere unescorted, but he could at least make sure his escort didn't waste time finding him.

 

Not, Tony amended privately as the heavy metal door opened to reveal that escort, that Jack would have kept him waiting long.

 

"Huh," Jack said. "Guess I owe Carter ten."

 

"For what?" Tony asked. He'd been amused to find out that side bets on ridiculous things were a regular part of Jack's unit, just as they'd once been part of the MCRT.

 

"I figured you'd be carsick after Tomlinson's driving. Or maybe airsick after Ditend's flying."

 

"I ride with Gibbs regularly," Tony countered as he preceded Jack into the elevator. "These guys were strictly amateurs."

 

Jack laughed as the elevator doors slid shut behind him. "They'll love that."

 

"And," Tony added, "it might have something to do with conserving fuel on the flight out, so Captain Ditend couldn't pull any stunts."

 

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're able to start working right away. We have a … situation."

 

Tony raised an eyebrow but knew better than to prompt Jack to say more just now. Jack would speak only when he was absolutely certain they were in a properly secured part of the complex.

 

Which apparently meant Jack's office. The door closed behind them and Tony took a chair facing the desk Jack moved to sit behind.

 

"I would've thought you'd have gotten a new OSI agent by now," Tony said.

 

"Did. Lasted all of a week and a half before he freaked when he saw his first Goa'uld."

 

"So you need me to investigate some thefts?" Tony laced the words with as much disbelief as he could muster.

 

"That's the cover story," Jack agreed. He met Tony's gaze steadily. "Teal'c has been accused of murder."

 

"Teal'c?" Tony frowned. He knew who Jack referred to - an actual alien from another planet who worked and fought with Jack's SG-1 team to defend Earth against the Goa'uld. Nothing that he knew of Teal'c suggested the man could be a murderer, but then again, there was no such thing as a _typical_ murderer.

 

"Yeah," Jack said. "We were on P5-772 -"

 

"Wait, where?" Tony asked. Then the answer hit him. "Another _planet_?"

 

Jack nodded. "Routine mission, explore the planet - the locals call it Telos, establish friendly relations with those in charge. The usual."

 

"Right, the usual," Tony agreed dryly, and Jack grinned briefly before continuing.

 

"Their culture is a mix of Ancient Greek and Roman influences," Jack said. "Which is good because they have an actual legal system - judges, jury, lawyers."

 

Tony got the rest of it. "But bad because we don't know their laws or procedure."

 

"Got it in one," Jack said.

 

Tony turned the situation over in his mind. "So I'm here to investigate the murder and turn over the evidence to Teal'c's lawyer?"

 

"Close. You're here to investigate the murder and argue Teal'c's case."

 

"What?" The word burst from Tony's mouth before he knew he was going to say it. "You want me to act as a lawyer?"

 

"Each party is allowed one advocate - one representative of his choice," Jack said. "That one can conduct whatever investigation he deems fit, including questioning witnesses, and then presents his findings to the judge and jury."

 

"The doesn't explain why you want me."

 

"Two reasons," Jack said. "First, we have a limited window - they've got it all over us when it comes to speedy trials. You're already read in to the project, so it was just a matter of getting you here."

 

"I notice you didn't say anything about fair trials," Tony observed. "And the second reason?"

 

"Teal'c asked for you."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

Tony assumed most kids had dreams of becoming an astronaut, of visiting the stars. Certainly he had, and while he assumed most kids grew out of that dream, that fantasy, before puberty, he'd held onto it through junior high and high school, even the summer before his freshman year of college. Then he'd learned the minimum requirements - passing the physical exam would be simple enough, but there was no way he could excel at an engineering degree and devote enough time to football and basketball to keep his scholarship.

 

Now, years after he'd given up that dream in favor of something he could actually excel at, Tony found himself standing before a circular portal that would take him to another planet and fulfil that long-ago dream, fighting to keep himself from bouncing on his toes in excitement.

 

Then the portal rippled to life and though Tony had seen it before, he'd been in the control room, too far away to make out any details. This close, it had an almost hypnotic rhythm to it.

 

"Don't make me shove you through like I did Carter," Jack said from behind him.

 

"Like hell you will," Tony muttered, and took two steps forward, into the unknown.

 

Tony recovered from the turbulence of the trip quickly - years of exposure to Gibbs' and Ziva's driving had benefits beyond making Jack O'Neill lose a bet - but the cold lingered deep within, reminding him of the relative fragility of his lungs since going ten rounds in the ring with _Y. pestis_ , honing each breath with an edge of fear.

 

He shoved the thought away and looked around. He stood with Jack on a dais about ten feet across made of carved stones fitted snugly together. In front of them was … a control panel for the stargate, if Tony's instincts were right. Behind him was the stargate they'd just come through.

 

The dais was nestled in a clearing maybe twice as wide as it was, surrounded by trees that might have been fir or pine, their needles rippling in a mild, chilly breeze.

 

Tony glanced at Jack. "You sure this is another planet? 'Cause it reminds me a lot of western Canada."

 

"Pretty sure." Jack nodded toward one of the trees, and Tony followed his gaze to see a bird unlike any other he'd seen before.

 

It might have been an owl, or maybe a falcon, or maybe some demented combination of the two, but what made it different to Tony's eye was its orange plumage, just bright enough to stand out against the darker needles of the trees.

 

"Lousy camouflage," Tony muttered, hoping his voice didn't shake. He'd gone through the portal, and he trusted Jack when he said they were actually on another planet, but seeing this bird brought the fact home with a punch to his gut.

 

But he'd never been one to run from his fears, so Tony deliberately focused on the bird, studying the details of its plumage and careful not to meet its eyes too often or too long - no sense provoking a bird that shared characteristics of predatory birds on Earth, after all - until Jack's hand landed on his shoulder.

 

"Sightsee later," Jack said. "After we save Teal'c."

 

Right - Teal'c. Tony had almost forgotten. He gave himself a mental shake. "Where is he, and how long do we have?"

 

"They're holding him in town," Jack answered. "And we've got until tomorrow morning."

 

"Before the trial?" Tony couldn't conceal his surprise. "You weren't kidding when you said they have a thing for speedy trials."

 

"Yeah," Jack drawled. "They also have a thing for executing murderers, so let's get on with proving him innocent."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

Even though Tony knew every minute, every second, ticked closer to Teal'c's trial and potential execution - and _no pressure there, DiNozzo, just like there was no pressure at the Ohio State-Michigan game_ \- he couldn't help gawking a little at what Jack had called _town._

 

He could've been in the oldest parts of Rome or Athens, given the classically-styled stone structures around him, buildings whose purpose he might have divined if he had more than a handful of seconds to look at them, but his gaze was caught by the colors on the buildings.

 

He'd seen the Elgin Marbles in person once when his mother took him to the British Museum, as well as other Greek and Roman statuary and photos of famous buildings like the Parthenon, the Coliseum, and others, so he'd grown accustomed to thinking that the Greeks and Romans lived in stark white or off-white surroundings.

 

Here, though, the walls, doors, columns, and especially statuary were covered in color. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, even various shades of pinks and browns on the exposed "flesh" of statues, jumped out at him, and Tony blinked in awe before reminding himself that he was here as an investigator, not a tourist.

 

"Where's Teal'c?" he asked.

 

"This way," Jack gestured to his two o'clock and Tony fell into step with him.

 

Tony didn't know what to expect - jails on Earth ranged from luxurious to squalid, depending on the country, the offense, and the offender. Who knew what other planets might have developed?

 

When he stepped into a small room with only a few windows high along the ceiling and a hole in one corner and not much else, his initial thought was that it wasn't so bad. When he saw the single guard standing just inside the doorway, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

 

He'd seen Teal'c fighting invaders, and the thought that one man, even one armed with a deadly-looking blade, could stop Teal'c was ludicrous. Still, for whatever reason, Teal'c chose to stay a prisoner and face justice on some strange planet.

 

Teal'c sat on the floor facing the door. Opposite him, their backs to the doorway where Tony stood, sat Captain Samantha Carter and a dark-haired man Tony didn't know. Both of them looked up at his and Jack's approach.

 

Carter smiled and nodded a greeting, and the dark-haired man rose to his feet.

 

"Dr. Daniel Jackson," Jack said, "Tony DiNozzo."

 

Tony shook hands with the other man, blinking against the sunlight glaring off the man's glasses, before he turned to Teal'c.

 

"Agent DiNozzo." Teal'c regarded him steadily. "Thank you for coming."

 

"Of course," Tony said immediately. "I'm not sure why you wanted me instead of a lawyer, but I'll do whatever I can."

 

"That is all I ask."

 

Tony lowered himself to the floor between Teal'c and Carter. "Tell me what happened."

 

"They held a feast for us," Teal'c began. "After the meal, there was music and dancing."

 

" _Loud_ music and dancing," Carter put in. Jackson shushed her, which meant Tony didn't have to.

 

"The music was - uncomfortable to Chulak ears," Teal'c said, and Tony suspected that by _uncomfortable_ he meant it hurt like hell. "So I excused myself to find a quieter place."

 

"Then what?" Tony prompted.

 

"I went behind a house west of the gathering," Teal'c continued, "expecting the building to buffer the sound, but instead I saw the body of a man whose throat had been cut."

 

"Did you kill him?" Tony asked.

 

"No."

 

Tony studied the other man. Teal'c wasn't entirely human, and doubtless his tells would be different than anyone else Tony had ever met, but even so, Tony believed him. The sincerity in his eyes would be difficult to fake.

 

"Okay, then," Tony said after a moment. "Let's prove it."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

Taverns were apparently a constant in the universe, Tony decided as he took another sip of the local brew. It had a flavor somewhat less acidic than _ouzo_ , but only about half the alcohol content, if Tony were any judge.

 

Sundown had come several hours ago, according to his internal time sense, and he really should be finding Jack and the others and a place to catch a few hours' nap before the morning, when Teal'c's fate would rest in his hands.

 

"No pressure," he muttered, and raised his cup again - only to have it snatched from his hand.

 

He glared at the offender. "That's my drink."

 

"What are you doing drinking?" Carter demanded, righteous rage lighting her eyes. "It's only a few hours until sunrise."

 

 _And Teal'c's trial_. She left those words unspoken, but Tony heard them as clearly as if she'd spoken them in his own voice. He shoved away from the table and met her gaze.

 

"You're right," he said. "I shouldn't be drinking."

 

"Thank you," she said, all satisfaction and worry.

 

"I should be sleeping." Tony grabbed his drink from her and downed the remainder in one long swallow.

 

"What?" He'd only thought Carter looked outraged before.

 

"C'mon, Captain," Tony said. "Surely you've heard it before - never pass up a chance to eat, sleep, or shit because you never know when the next one's coming."

 

" _Agent_ DiNozzo." Her tone carried more ice than the North Pole, and Tony admitted he was impressed. "You have a job to do, remember?"

 

"Do I tell you how to do physics, Captain?" Tony waited for her response, a brief shake of her head. "Then don't tell me how to investigate."

 

He called a _thank you_ in both English and the local dialect - first rule of survival in a new country, learn _please_ and _thank you_ and _another round_ \- and headed for the door.

 

Carter hurried to catch up to him. "So you've figured out who killed that man?"

 

"Nope." Tony shivered in the evening air. It wasn't cold, not really, but since _Y. pestis_ he felt any chill more acutely.

 

"But there's only a few hours left -"

 

" _Captain_ Carter." Tony hated interrupting a woman, but Carter's righteous indignation reminded him too much of Kate, and that was a memory he didn't need resurrected right now.

 

She straightened, obviously surprised by his clipped, almost military tone, and he concealed a grin. Military school might not have been good for much, but it came in handy on occasion.

 

"Don't tell me how to investigate," Tony repeated. "For your information, finding out who the killer is isn't part of my mandate. Arguing Teal'c's case, saving his life, is. Now - can you show me where we're bunking for the night?"

 

"How can you argue Teal'c's case without knowing who the real killer is?" Carter asked, and now she sounded more curious than indignant. It was the only reason Tony answered.

 

"That's the wrong question," he said. "The right question is, how can I find the real killer in a few hours without benefit of any forensic evidence - fingerprints on the knife, for instance?"

 

"That sounds - difficult," Carter admitted.

 

"Try _impossible_ ," Tony said. "And I'm not stupid enough to beat my head against that wall."

 

"So what are you going to do?"

 

"I'll know when I wake up," Tony said, and hoped it was true.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Tony followed the guards escorting Teal'c to the court, which turned out to be an amphitheater large enough to seat several thousands of people. In the center of the amphitheater stood three tables in a U-shape, with the open end facing toward the seats. The tables and benches pulled up to them were painted a yellow that rivaled the walls of the NCIS bullpen for brightness.

 

Behind the tables, a pillar with a bowl of fire rose to just above his own height. It looked solidly constructed, but he'd keep an eye on it regardless.

 

The table to the right was already occupied by two men, one older than the other. The older man had silver hair like Gibbs, and the younger man's hair was sun-lightened as Tony's own. Tony nodded to them, but they turned away.

 

One of the guards offered Tony some kind of scarf of undyed linen edged in a yellow to match the walls. A careful look around told Tony how the scarf should be worn, and he draped it around his shoulders, wondering what it might mean. Then the guards brought Tony and Teal'c to the table opposite the other two men, and Tony sat beside Teal'c.

 

"You know I have no idea what to expect," Tony said.

 

"Nor have I, Agent DiNozzo," Teal'c responded. "

 

"I'll do my best," Tony promised.

 

"You have said so before. I believed you then, and I believe you now."

 

That seemed to be all Teal'c had to say on the subject, so Tony took a moment to study the amphitheater. The first five rows of bench seating were painted the same bright yellow as the table where Tony sat, a stark contrast to the weather-worn benches in the rows beyond.

 

For a structure this large, Tony was surprised to identify only one official entrance. It had three successive gates. Curious, he let his attention linger to see what the gates were for. Soon enough, he had his answer.

 

At the first gate, each person drew a chip from a bag and displayed it. If the chip were yellow, the person gave it to an attendant at the second gate before selecting a place to sit on the yellow benches.

 

People who drew black chips gave them to an attendant at the third gate and found seats on the unpainted benches.

 

It was an orderly process, and Tony supposed it was a common one, as everyone seemed to know what they were expected to do.

 

Until the rest of SG-1 arrived.

 

There was a minor commotion that Tony couldn't hear the details of, but a moment later, two men in yellow-bordered tunics detached themselves from the group. One departed at a run away from the amphitheater. The other strode toward the benches where Tony sat.

 

"The advocates are called to attend a conference with the magistrate," he said.

 

Tony blinked, but rose when the younger man at the opposite bench did. Only now did he note that his counterpart's tunic was also yellow-bordered, and he wore a yellow cloak as well. They both followed the messenger back to the entrance to the amphitheater.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, and Tony could only shrug in response. A conference with the magistrate could mean anything, and he didn't have enough information to narrow _anything_ down to a particular something.

 

The crowd at the gate parted to make way for a man wearing a tunic that was all yellow, not just bordered in yellow, with a matching cloak. He held a staff covered in gold as well. Tony supposed this was the magistrate.

 

His supposition was confirmed when the gatekeeper spoke. "Magistrate, I beg your decision on how to proceed."

 

"Proceed with what?" the magistrate asked.

 

"These." The gatekeeper gestured toward Jack, Carter, and Jackson. "Should they draw jury lots?"

 

Tony blinked. The lots were for jury service? What else would be different from what he knew?

 

"Hm." The magistrate eyed the SG-1 team for a moment, before turning to Tony and his counterpart. "Identify yourselves."

 

"Dratan, for the victim."

 

"Anthony DiNozzo, for the defendant." That much, at least, was familiar to Tony, thanks to testifying at trials throughout his career.

 

"Your position, Dratan. Should these visitors draw jury lots?"

 

"No," Dratan answered. "They are not citizens and cannot judge by our laws."

 

The magistrate fixed his gaze on Tony. "Your position, Anthony DiNozzo. Should these visitors draw jury lots?"

 

"Yes," Tony answered immediately. "The defendant is not a citizen, either. He deserves the chance for one of his own people to judge him."

 

The magistrate bowed his head, though Tony could see his forehead creased in concentration.

 

After long moments, the magistrate raised his head and struck his staff on the ground before speaking to the gatekeeper. "The visitors shall draw jury lots."

 

"Thank you, Magistrate Kritos."

 

"The magistrate has decided and the conference is ended," the man who had summoned Tony and Dratan said. "The advocates shall return to their places."

 

 _That was easy._ Tony made his way back to his seat and turned to see that Jackson had apparently drawn a yellow chip, though Jack and Carter joined the general audience.

 

Tony explained what had happened to Teal'c, and then reviewed the conference. Despite its brevity, he'd learned that Magistrate Kritos could make a reasonable decision, even if there were ulterior motives behind it that Tony might not understand. He could only hope that would continue.

 

A gong sounded - and how had Tony not noticed the gong at the entrance to the amphitheater? - and the gatekeeper's voice rang out.

 

"Two hundred and one citizens have been selected as jurors. No further lots need be drawn."

 

 _Two hundred and one?_ Tony repeated the number to himself, trying to discern any meaning beyond the fact that an odd number prevented a tie if the jury decided by vote. Then he grimaced. _Alien culture. No telling what numbers might mean to them._

 

The rest of the stands filled quickly, and then the magistrate approached and stood at the closed end of the U. Across from Tony, Dratan and the man with him rose to their feet. Tony nodded for Teal'c to follow suit, and they stood, along with all the citizens in the stands.

 

The magistrate raised his arms above his head in a wide V, and the crowd fell silent.

 

"Mighty gods," the magistrate began, his voice strong and commanding, "you, gods of wisdom, truth, justice and punishment, with our offerings, we ask you to watch over and guide this proceeding, to grant us the wisdom to perceive the truth and the judgment to punish fairly."

 

Two men in simple tunics approached from either side of the amphitheater, each bearing a dish of some kind. From this angle, Tony couldn't see what was in the dishes. Then men met at the open end of the table, turned and bowed to the jurors, then faced the tables where Tony and the others were and bowed to them.

 

Then the men proceeded around the tables, climbing a few steps so that they stood somewhat above the fire, and emptied their dishes into the fire. They bowed before the fire, then backed down the stairs and made their way out of the amphitheater.

 

The magistrate sat and, after a moment, everyone else did.

"Advocate Dratan." The magistrate's voice sounded less resonant than before, but was no less commanding because of it. "You may present your opening statement."

 

 _Not too different from trials back home,_ Tony thought. _Not yet, anyway._

 

The differences began almost as soon as Dratan started speaking. Rather than laying out what he intended to prove, he spoke passionately to the point of melodrama, demanding justice for the victim, Aristodestrus, and his family - represented today by his father, Solak, because his son was not yet of age - all in terms designed to inflame the jurors' emotions.

 

 _That wouldn't fly in the US._ But it was what he had to work with here, so Tony watched Dratan's mannerisms and presentations as closely as if he were going to go undercover as him.

 

So it was almost a surprise when the magistrate spoke again. "Advocate Anthony DiNozzo. You may present your opening statement."

 

_Showtime._

 

Tony rose and came around to the open end of the U, turning first to face the magistrate.

 

He inclined his head toward the man in yellow. "Your Honor."

 

Then he turned to face the jurors and the audience beyond. "Ladies, gentlemen, honorable and esteemed jurors. My counterpart just now spoke of the death of Aristodestrus, but that is not the only death we speak of today."

 

He paused a moment, just long enough for a murmur to ripple through the crowd. "If Teal'c is found guilty, he will be killed. Taking a life is a serious thing. Deciding to take a life should not be done in the heat of passion. It should be done with careful consideration of the action and the consequences of that action."

 

He had them - the jurors were watching him, some curious, some skeptical, but most of them engaged. "Because of that, where I come from, we ask our jurors to be certain beyond a reasonable doubt that the accused is guilty before they choose to execute - to kill - him."

 

"We are not where you come from," Dratan said, and Tony filed that bit of protocol away for future use.

 

"No, we're not," Tony agreed. "But I hope that reasonable people, that good people, would want the same, regardless of where they are. Otherwise, they're - _we're_ \- the same as a man who murders in anger. _Exactly_ the same. Today, honorable jurors, I hope to raise a reasonable doubt in your minds. If I do, I hope you will find Teal'c not guilty."

 

The expressions on the jurors' faces that he could read suggested he'd have a snowball's chance. That might be so, but he'd do his best to give Teal'c that chance.


	4. Chapter 4

The trial lasted until midday, and Tony admitted as much surprise at the similarities to trials he'd been to on Earth - examination and cross-examination - as at the differences, especially direct questions and comments from the jurors. The most surprising difference was when Advocate Dratan brought Aristodestrus' widow and children onto the dais to regale the jury with tales of their grief, complete with them wailing and crying.

 

Tony suspected he'd been around far too many courts - he felt nothing at their display. Instead, he studied the jurors. If they were human - Earth-human, that is, and damn he had to stop thinking about being on another planet, except it mattered now because he didn't know what tells to look for. If they were human, he'd think they were as unaffected by the display as he was. But they weren't human - not Earth-human - so he had no idea what to make of their expressions.

 

He could only work with what he knew, and hope humans weren't that different whatever planet they were on.

 

Which is why, when guards arrived to escort the family from the dais, Tony addressed Dratan. "We all know how hard it is to lose someone we love. I'm sorry that you thought we needed such a reminder."

 

There was a mild hum of approval from the crowd, and Dratan flushed. Tony addressed his next words to the widow and her children. "And I'm sorry that you were brought here for this … travesty. Most of all, I'm sorry for your loss. Aristodrestus sounds like he was a good man."

 

Then the widow had gone with her children, and the magistrate called a recess - and not a minute too soon, either, judging by the pressure in Tony's bladder.

 

The trial - _more like a kangaroo court_ \- reconvened after the recess for closing arguments.

 

There was a dearth of actual evidence in the case, but that didn't seem to stop Advocate Dratan from arguing for Teal'c's guilt. Dratan spoke at enough length that Tony found his mind wandering yet again as he idly scanned the jurors.

 

Interesting - once again, their expressions seemed to mirror his feelings. Not everyone, of course, but a large portion. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at saving Teal'c without having to fight their way out - which he had no doubt Jack would do if needed, but Tony had been around long enough to know that if Jack was actually going along with this sham of a trial, there was something on this planet that was needed back on Earth, and Jack wouldn't want to spoil whatever negotiations might be going on, let alone abandon the planet completely, if he didn't have to.

 

 _Yeah, no pressure, DiNozzo._ That seemed to have become his mantra for the day.

 

But Dratan finally seemed to be winding down. "We must not allow Aristodrestus's death to go unpunished. We must not allow this _Jaffa_ to go free."

 

Dratan took his seat, and Tony rose.

 

"Well," he drawled. "That was certainly an _emotional_ speech. But we didn't invoke the gods of emotion at the beginning of this proceeding. We invoked the gods of wisdom, truth, and justice."

 

He paused to survey the jurors, challenging them with his gaze, before he continued.

 

"I want to share a little wisdom from my job back home. I investigate crimes like Aristodestrus's death, to find the truth of what happened, so the guilty party can be brought to justice."

 

Advocate Dratan barked a dismissive laugh. "We have done that - we know the Jaffa is guilty. You merely delay the inevitable."

 

Tony stiffened - not least because he feared Dratan was right. But he'd sworn to do his best for Teal'c, and he would. He channeled the fear and anger Dratan's words and tone provoked to give Dratan a glare that would rival any of Gibbs' own.

 

"I didn't interrupt you when you spoke just now," Tony said, in a tone that reminded him too much of his father at his worst. "Show me the same courtesy, will you?"

 

Dratan sat back, clearly surprised by the response. Then he looked to the magistrate, and Tony followed suit.

 

The magistrate frowned thoughtfully for a long moment. Then he said, "Do not interrupt him, Dratan. The jurors may speak or question, as usual."

 

"That's fair." Or as fair as any trial was going to get on this planet. Tony turned back to face the jurors. "Where was I? Oh, right - my job. If I were investigating this matter, I'd look for someone who had the means to kill Aristodestrus, the opportunity to do it, and a motive for doing it. We have to have all three in place before we arrest someone. I've been reviewing those three things in this case. Does Teal'c have all three?"

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Dratan shift as though he were going to speak. Tony turned his head to glare at the other man, and Dratan subsided.

 

Returning his attention to the jurors once more, Tony said, "That Teal'c had the opportunity is a given. It was a party, a feast. People come and go from those all the time. That he had the means is also a given - Teal'c is a skilled fighter. So there's two of the three. But that third one…"

 

Tony finally gave in to the nerves that pumped through his system, allowed himself to pace before the jurors. "Motive. What motive could Teal'c possibly have had for killing Aristodrestus, a stranger to him? _Why_ would he have killed him?"

 

Tony surveyed the jurors, meeting several of their gazes with his own, just as if he were the professor Jeanne Benoit had believed him to be and they were his students. Some of the jurors shifted uncomfortably. Finally, a heavyset man - larger than most people Tony had seen on this planet - spoke.

 

"He is Jaffa."

 

A low ripple of agreement echoed after his words. If he were in a bar, those would be fighting words. But here and now, Tony could only raise an eyebrow.

 

"So? That's a statement of fact as to what he is. It's not an answer to the question of _why_ he would kill Aristodrestus."

 

The juror snorted. "Of course it is. He is Jaffa."

 

"And you're fat," Tony shot back. "So? I ask again, _why_ would Teal'c kill Aristodrestus? What reason could he have?"

 

A second juror, leaner and blonder than the first, spoke. "Everyone knows Jaffa are violent, murderous."

 

Now Tony knew what kind of prejudice he was facing - the kind that settled in the gut, seductive and vile, and offered the easy way out of any dilemma by cutting off discussion and debate. This particular prejudice was deep, it sounded like, and Tony felt his own gut tightening at the realization that he had lost this trial before it ever began.

 

But he'd damned well go down fighting. He turned a glare on the second juror.

 

"Yeah? On my world, everyone knows blondes are dumb."

 

The man flushed. "I am not dumb!"

 

Tony smiled, and he could only hope it looked as predatory as it felt. "If you're not dumb, then is it possible - just _possible_ \- that Teal'c is not violent and murderous?"

 

Dratan shot to his feet. "You -!"

 

"Ah-ah." Tony cut him off. "My turn to talk now. Besides, you don't want me to get started on redheads."

 

Dratan subsided again, scowling as he resumed his seat, and Tony wondered if maybe he were the one who had killed Aristodrestus? Finding out wasn't part of his mandate, though, so he turned back to the jury.

 

"If Teal'c were not Jaffa, if he were just another person like you or me, what reason would he have to kill Aristodrestus? I've thought and thought, and I can't figure it out. If you can't either, then I ask you, in your wisdom, to find Teal'c not guilty."

 

With a respectful nod to the jurors, Tony returned to his seat.

 

"Well spoken, Agent DiNozzo," Teal'c murmured.

 

"Let's hope it was good enough."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

The people of P5-772 - and now that his part in the trial was over, Tony had a moment to wonder just what they called their planet. Oh, he remembered Jack said they called it Telos, but Tony had no idea what it translated to. _Probably something like "dirt," or "our planet," just like on Earth_ \- didn't believe in anonymous decisions by jurors. Instead, the magistrate polled each juror in turn whether they voted for the accused or against.

 

Tony tried to keep track of the results, but lingering anxiety, not just over the results of the trial, but also what Jack or Captain Carter might do if the voting went against Teal'c, distracted him enough that he lost count somewhere around the fifty-third juror polled.

 

Finally, the last juror had spoken - "Against" - and the magistrate rose to his feet.

 

"The gods have spoken through the jurors assembled," he said, his voice once again resonant and authoritative. "The final tally is ninety-eight against the accused. One hundred three for the accused. The accused is not guilty. We thank thee, o gods, for your wisdom and guidance in finding truth and justice in this matter. This court is concluded."

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

P5-772's sun rested low on the horizon before the amphitheater finally emptied. The results of the juror tally had been received well enough, overall, Tony thought. At least there hadn't been a riot - though there had been some angry words and some obviously disappointed people.

 

Then again, Tony mused as he watched the last of the crowd disperse, this was probably the most excitement the town had seen in years. Maybe decades.

 

At the foot of the dais, Jack, Dr. Jackson, and Teal'c spoke quietly together. Tony frowned. Where was Captain Carter?

 

"So blondes are dumb, are they?" Carter's voice came from behind him, and Tony shifted on his bench to face her and her disapproving expression.

 

"They also have more fun," he said. "But that wouldn't have helped the argument."

 

"I suppose." Her expression might have eased, but her tone was skeptically acidic, and Tony's patience, already frayed thin by the stresses of the day, snapped.

 

"Get over yourself," he all but snarled, and had the satisfaction of seeing her physically take a step back. "I used the tools I had to hand - which were not fingerprints, DNA testing, or surveillance tapes."

 

Carter shook her head. "I didn't mean -"

 

"Yes, you did. You drew all kinds of conclusions because you didn't like my methods."

 

Just like Kate had done all those years ago when he'd explained the necessity of crime scene sketches using a copy of _Exotic Resorts_ magazine - one that happened to have a bikini-clad model on the cover. The memory stabbed through him, and he swallowed back a wave of fresh grief that threatened to spill over.

 

"There a problem here?" Jack's mild question brought him back to the moment.

 

"If there is," he said before Carter could respond, "it's her problem. Are we done here?"

 

Jack looked between him and Carter before replying. "Yeah. We're done. Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks after he'd returned from Colorado, Tony arrived at the Navy Yard feeling even more restless than usual. Things had apparently returned to normal - or at least what passed for normal on the MCRT - since Ziva's return, but something inside Tony refused to feel normal, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

Still, he managed a grin as he approached the metal detector. "Morning, Henry."

 

"Morning." The guard grinned back but sobered immediately. "The director wants to see you in his office right away."

 

Tony groaned, debating whether he should call in sick and go back home.

 

"He also told me to let him know as soon as you arrived," Henry added, and that decided Tony. He couldn't ask the other man to lie to the director for him.

 

"Thanks," he said, because it was polite and Henry was just doing his job. Tony passed through the metal detector, retrieved his badge, gun, cell phone, and keys, and started for the stairs.

 

Not long enough later, Tony approached Vance's office. It was early enough that Vance's assistant, Cynthia, wasn't at her desk, so Tony knocked on the door, wondering how he'd screwed up so badly so early.

 

"Come." Vance's voice was barely muffled by the closed door.

 

Tony opened the door. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

 

He stopped when he saw Vance's guest.

 

"Jack? I mean, Colonel O'Neill?"

 

"Close the door behind you, Agent DiNozzo," Vance said. "Colonel O'Neill tells me you put in your application for a vacant AFOSI position."

 

Tony's eyebrows drew together. "No, I didn't. I -"

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, and memory returned.

 

Jack had seen him off from Cheyenne Mountain, walking with him to the car that would take him back to Colorado Springs and a commercial flight back to DC.

 

Leaning against the car while Tony threw his go-bag into the trunk, Jack had drawled, "You should apply for the OSI position."

 

Tony slammed the trunk closed. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little old to be enlisting."

 

Jack shrugged. "You're a seasoned investigator, already helped us out twice. Something could be arranged."

 

"I did a couple of years at a military school - enough to know it's not the life for me."

 

"At least put in your application," Jack had suggested. "Give us a chance."

 

"Consider what I did back there my application," Tony had sassed, then shaken Jack's hand and returned to DC.

 

Where, two weeks later, it seemed that Jack had taken him seriously.

 

"I guess I did apply," Tony admitted. "Informally."

 

Vance scowled from behind his desk. "Informally or not, Colonel O'Neill is here to make you an offer."

 

"An offer I can't refuse?" Tony couldn't resist. Or maybe it was just the lack of caffeine making him blurt things he shouldn't.

 

"One we hope you won't refuse," Jack said. He offered Tony a file folder. "All the details are in there. The highlight reel is, you'll remain with NCIS but transfer to us as a sort of permanent change of station, and we'll throw in a five percent pay raise under the guise of detached duty pay. Which, considering the cost of living there is about half what it is here…you do the math."

 

"Seriously?" Tony took the folder with fingers that seemed a little shaky.

 

"Pardon the question, Colonel," Vance said, "but you're Air Force. Shouldn't you be looking for someone from AFOSI?"

 

"Thought about that," Jack said. "But NCIS has one significant advantage over AFOSI. You're outside the chain of command, so your agents - in this case, Tony - can't be pressured by an officer. Me or anyone else."

 

"Huh." Vance's expression said he hadn't thought of that and, truthfully, Tony hadn't either. Instead, Tony stared at the file folder in his hand, irrationally feeling that if he opened it, the offer inside would disappear somehow.

 

"We'll give you a few minutes to look it over," Vance said.

 

"Here, sir?" Tony asked.

 

Vance quirked a brief smile. "Only place you won't be bothered. When you're done, we'll discuss a counteroffer."

 

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Counteroffer? I figured you'd be glad to get rid of me."

 

Vance looked uncomfortable but met Tony's gaze steadily. "I think you're a - not a relic, but a holdover from an investigative era that's passing. But I can't deny the skills you displayed in Israel and elsewhere."

 

"Huh." Tony took the folder and sat down at the small conference table, barely noticing when Vance and Jack left the room.

 

SG1 ~ NCIS ~ SG1

 

One hour and two cups of coffee from the director's personal machine - the second doctored with a shot from the director's even more personal alcohol stash - later, Tony rose from his chair and headed for the door.

 

When he opened it, Cynthia sat at her desk. She looked up with a smile. "I'll let Director Vance know you're ready for him."

 

Tony had been at NCIS long enough to know he'd sooner anger Gibbs than anger Cynthia, so he returned her smile and retreated into Vance's office with a, "Thanks, Cynthia."

 

Not three minutes later - yes, Tony timed it; he couldn't help being curious - the door opened and Vance and Jack stepped inside to join him at the conference table.

 

Tony didn't beat around the bush. "Sorry, Director."

 

Then he wished he'd had his phone out to capture Vance's stunned expression - and Jack's grin.

 

Vance recovered quickly. "Not even going to listen to a counteroffer?"

 

Tony shrugged. "You can't counter it. Oh, you can match the salary, and I admit moving's a pain, but Jack - sorry, Colonel O'Neill - can offer something you can't."

 

"What's that?"

 

"A team," Tony said simply. "A real team, one that respects my skills even if they don't like my methods."

 

Jack cleared his throat, and when Tony looked his way, he wore a sheepish expression. "About that - I had a word with Carter."

 

Tony winced. "I bet it didn't go well."

 

"No, but it needed to be said. You did good, and she shouldn't judge your methods." Jack cocked his head to one side. "As long as those methods are legal," he amended.

 

Vance scowled. "I hate to lose you, DiNozzo."

 

"Even if I am a relic of a passing age?" Tony asked as politely as he knew how.

 

"Yes. You keep Gibbs under control better than anyone else ever could."

 

"Sounds to me like you need to deal with that, Director," Jack observed. "You know, do your own job, not rely on someone else to do it for you."

 

Vance glared at Jack for a moment. "This is an internal reassignment. I don't have to approve it."

 

Jack grinned, and even though Tony wasn't the target of that predatory smile, he still sat back, out of the line of fire.

 

"No, you don't. But if you don't, you'll have some explaining to do."

 

"Such as?" Vance snapped.

 

"I'm not exactly sure. See, SECHS talked to SECDEF, who talked to SECNAV, and I don't know how many of them will want explanations."

 

Jack glanced over at Tony. "That's the only reason the offer took so long. SECDEF was on vacation."

 

Tony nodded, even though his mind still reeled. The Secretary of Homeland Security had made the request for his services directly to the Secretary of Defense. Oh, no doubt Tom Morrow, ostensibly a deputy director over at Homeland, originated the request, but SECHS didn't have to get personally involved. Neither did SECDEF. That both of them had done so only confirmed his decision.

 

"You're the only one who can block this, Tony," Jack was saying.

 

"Not a chance," Tony said. "I would like a week to deal with moving."

 

Jack grinned. "Morrow authorized two weeks paid administrative leave, so you're not due on site until the twelfth. Soon as you sign those papers, you're ours."

 

Tony's grin stretched his cheeks, and he slid the folder toward Jack. "I already did."


End file.
